


James Tobias Moore: An Introduction

by Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff



Series: And Bluebells Gleamed on Mountain Wild [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 19th Century, Character Introduction, Character Study, F/M, he's my gruff sweet boy, mountain man / wild west au?, not a chatty boy but a good boy, outdoors man, reader is described as female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28169565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff
Summary: I decided the best way to introduce a new OC would be a mixture of a story and some actual facts. The note at the beginning is a nice summary of key parts about James and then the story is a more enjoyable way to write a character introduction.Basically I want to start writing more OC x Reader stuff because it gives me more control over the character and who he is and what he's like.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Reader
Series: And Bluebells Gleamed on Mountain Wild [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063628
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	James Tobias Moore: An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Name: James Tobias Moore  
> Age: 29  
> DOB: February 25th 1867  
> Height: 6ft 4  
> Body type: Broad, large, strong, he got a soft tummy tho cause he’s weak for sweet baked goods  
> Hair: Long enough to tie up at the back in a bun, messy, ginger  
> Appearance: Covered in freckles and scars. So many scars. He’s had a tough life and nearly died more times than is probably reasonable for his age.   
> Career/Lifestyle: Lives in a cabin in the woods and is self-sufficient. Hunts, fishes, forages, and grows his own vegetables when the weather is right. Earns money from hunting and fishing, but also does odd jobs around, helps people with things they need.   
> Personality: Comes across quite gruff, brash, straight to the point. Not much of a conversationalist and never going to spout poetic at you, but he’s soft with those he cares about and loves. Will show you how much he loves you by providing for you, bringing you blankets, making you dinner, carrying you to bed when you fall asleep in front of the fire. Amazing with children and animals.   
> Pets: Brandy, a large bay shire horse, more of a companion than a pet though. She’s been in his life a good while now.

* * *

The year is 1896, the weather is turning colder. Autumn melting into winter, the first snow falls will begin soon, he thinks. James Tobias Moore has a lot to do, a lot to prepare before the cold season truly hits and the flurries come in. Living in the woods away from town, he spends most of the year living off the few plants he grows beside his cabin, the herbs, mushrooms, and roots he forages, the animals he hunts and the fish he catches in the nearby lake.

When the snow comes he won’t be able to hunt often and fishing will be more difficult and not worth the effort of sitting in the cold for hours. So he pulls his thick coat on, covers his worn hands with gloves and sets off with his worn satchel. Locking the door behind him, he takes a moment to turn dark brown eyes to the sky. It’s growing greyer every day, a sure sign that a snow storm would hit before long. He needs to make the trip to town now before he misses his chance, he wouldn’t be in dire straits without the supplies, but it would be a trickier winter for certain.

He whistles, loud and clear. Brandy comes plodding from around the corner, the large bay shire horse bobbing her head up and down in greeting. He smiles softly, quietly, gently pats her neck searching in his coat pocket for an oat cake he knows he left there last time he took her out. She’s impatient, large head pushing at his pocket, nibbling at the coat until he finally finds the treat and proffers it to her, she accepts it quickly, nickering quietly at him.

“C’mon then, girl, we have work to do.” His voice is quiet, a southern twang to it that hasn’t left even after moving further north. The shire follows along behind him, following him to the cart he uses on occasion to get goods from town or sell the spoils of a successful hunting trip. He’s careful as he hitches Brandy to the cart, making sure everything sits right, nothing too tight, nothing incorrectly harnessed. She’s his one companion out here and he’s careful to look after her.

The horse nibbles at ginger strands of his hair as he adjusts part of the harness and he huffs at her, giving her an admonishing look that she no doubt doesn’t understand. He gives her one last pat on the nose before getting into the cart and taking the reins, beginning the journey into town.

It’s a long journey, but in the winter months a necessary one. He’ll stock up for the winter, tinned foods, matches, extra blankets, hay. Things he doesn’t already have and can’t source himself. He has enough salted and dried meat, he’s been preserving hunts since the weather started to turn colder and it’s just the last bits he needs. There’s you too. It’s his last chance to see you before the snow hits, he won’t be able to see you till spring. Not that he’d ever admit that he goes to town to see your soft smile. He was just a gruff mountain man after all. He wasn’t good with his words. 

He hadn’t always been a hunter, fisherman and outdoorsman. There was a time he worked in the sunnier parts of the country on a horse ranch, a time he worked shifting goods in a factory and a time he worked as a bounty hunter. The odd jobs are behind him now and he likes the life he’s built for himself, quiet and secluded, he fends for himself and enjoys the noise that comes from nature. It’s a different sort of life than living in a crowded, smoggy city, or a populated town. He’s never been much of a conversationalist, never was very good with words, and the isolation suits him fine. Even if there’s one person he’d happily share his cabin with. 

At 29 years old James is happy with the cabin he’s built, the life he currently has. He helps the odd stranger here and there, usually from their own incompetence, is known in the nearest towns as a man you can rely on and keeps mostly to himself. It suits him just fine. 

“Easy, girl” He soothes Brandy as she tosses her head at a stick on the ground no doubt believing it to be one of her least favourite creatures, a snake. She calms quickly, trusting that her owner would let her know if danger was near.

The cold late autumn sun is dappled through the trees as they ride along the dirt track road. The light hits across his suntanned skin, constellations of freckles stand out next to old scars. He yawns low, bringing a gloved hand to run tiredly through his beard. It’s beginning to get too long for even his liking and while no one will see him once winter hits, the voice in his head that sounds too much like his late mother reminds him that he should look after himself and make himself presentable. Especially if he wants you to take notice. 

The ride is quiet, an hour of birds chirping in the trees and mammals moving through the underbrush. He passes a few riders on the road, nods his head and says a quiet good morning. It’s a good ride, for once he doesn’t find himself reaching for his gun to fend off a particularly wild pack of wolves or a thief intent on stealing his horse. He’s in a pleasant mood when he rides into town. Made even more pleasant by the sight of you taking a quick breath of fresh air outside the small schoolhouse you work at as the small town's teacher. 

He slows Brandy and nods his head at you, “Morning, Miss Y/N.” The bright smile you turn on him is part of the reason you’re one of the few people in town he stops to talk to. He’s not one for chatter, but you warm him up like a blazing fire whenever you turn your gaze on him. You make him want to talk, even if it’s just to please you. 

“Good morning, Mister Moore. Coming to get your winter supplies?” After 2 years of knowing each other, you know his late autumn routine as if it were your own. He is a man of routine and structure, predictable in many ways. 

He nods an affirmative and you smile, he’s never been a chatty one, but the soft brown of his eyes and the pleasant gentleness of his features whenever he interacts with you makes each short conversation a pleasure. You have always been happy to talk for the two of you, even if you secretly wish for him to open up a little more, to crack open that hard outer shell and learn more about him. 

“Well, I shan't keep you...Will you stop into the school on your way out? The children love to hear your stories.” There were two exceptions to the quiet nature that James Moore had, one was with animals especially horses. You had seen him chatter on to Brandy enough to know he was comfortable chatting with animals. Another was with children, whenever he stopped by the schoolhouse he always had a story to tell. Half were true, some exaggerated and the rest no doubt fiction. But the children loved to hear how he’d wrestled a grizzly or caught a salmon with his bare hands. He was good with them too, a gentle giant. His 6ft 4, broad frame could often be found with children hanging off it by the end of the school day, being used as a climbing frame or tree. He was gentle with them, playful, more so than you ever saw him. It was a side you and the children only saw. 

“Well…” He looks to the sky, it’s darkening and he knows he can’t. He wishes he could, but he has to get back before it snows and it seems more and more likely that that will be later today rather than tomorrow. “I can’t, Miss...I’d love too but...the snow looks like it’ll come soon and I have to make sure I get back, ‘m sorry.”

“Of course...have a lovely day…” He’s already half way down the road, nearing the general store by the time you whisper his name, “James…” You watch with longing as he hitches the horse by the store and makes his way inside. 


End file.
